


A New You

by stellaretic



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Past Attempted Filicide, Past Attempted Murder, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaretic/pseuds/stellaretic
Summary: “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ven. If you ask me, it’s a good thing that you’re a different person now.”There’s a hasty intake of breath on Ventus’s part, a surefire sign that he convinced himself he could anticipate the essence of whatever Chirithy was about to say and fire off the cookie cutter response he had raring to go, but he’s forced to stop short the moment that reality and their actual sentiment catches up to him.At a pace slower than a snail’s, he lowers his folded arms and lifts his head. It’s just enough to establish eye contact again.“It is?”
Relationships: Chirithy & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	A New You

**Author's Note:**

> wrote a little something something last month about ven processing his unique grief pertaining to eraqus set about three or four months after the events of kh3 canon. and on his birthday, no less! so here that is in a slightly more polished form that i'm still not totally satisfied with. hope you get something out of it nonetheless!
> 
> and yes. chirithy is absolutely writer's surrogate.

“Morning, Master!”

A light swing of the wicker basket in attendance serves as Ventus’s wave. It’s set in the grass as he kneels down to the grave marker, putting the assemblage of glossy yellow petals within on full display. Taking note of this, he glances between the blooms and the keyblade’s grip, leveling with the latter as if it were a set of eyes.

“Sorry. They’re not your favorites. It’s still a little too early for those—but buttercups are pretty too, aren’t they?”

The breeze picks up a bit, carrying the crisp smell of a nearby waterfall and tickling the boy’s nape. With a diminishing twinkle in the vivid green pastures that span his irises, he crosses his legs, draws the mortuary wreath into his lap and, one by one, unravels the wilting flowers that he and Aqua had spruced it up with a week and a half ago, allowing his thoughts to flow freely all throughout.

“A bunch of things have been on my mind lately. I’m not sure where to start.” Fingers falter, resume their work in double time, then falter again. “I guess the biggie is… I wanna put on a happy face for Aqua and Terra. They’ve got fun plans for the day and I owe it to them to let ‘em know just how much I appreciate it and _everything_ they do. It feels like there’s never been a time where they haven’t been looking out for me… but all I can think about is how scary it is that I’m gonna be taking my exam in a year.”

He laughs. It’s a weak, lackluster sound.

“Between you and me, I probably won’t be ready by then. Or ever.”

“You’re doing it again!”

Ventus’s hands recoil from the arrangement of wood and plantae, upper body twisting as he whips to identify the source of the echo. On cue, Chirithy makes their presence known, the puff of brightly colored smoke they generate dispersing completely by the time their pudgy little limbs touch base with the ground.

“Huh—wha—”

They heave a frustrated sigh, pointing straight at Ventus after it runs its course.

“Selling yourself short!”

The addressed’s mouth contorts into a deep frown, heat sprinting to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah, well… _you’re_ doing that thing _you_ do again!”

“Huh? What thing?”

“Listening in! And sneaking up on me!”

“Oh.” Chirthy shakes their head in apology, ears flopping with each motion. “Sorry. You never used to mind all that much, so…”

Those words wash over Ventus like a bucket of water might, chilling him into repossessing a level, if guilty head.

“No. It’s okay,” he’s quick to reassure, volume and posture backpedaling. “It’s gonna take some getting used to. That’s all.”

Neither comment on the fact that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this sort of exchange, nor that it’s been a hearty sum of months since they resumed being a part of one another’s lives. It would be redundant. Instead, Ventus tries an encouraging smile and waves his old friend over, who responds in kind with a gravity defying hop and flourish.

Chirithy isn’t built for the precision work that the assembly of a wreath demands, but they’re still eager to be of some assistance, so Ventus tasks them with passing him leaves, flowers and stems in accordance with aesthetics and the obligation to conceal the frame beneath. In no time at all, they’ve settled into an easy rhythm that suits both of their paces. Their progress is, in fact, so palpable, that they’re nearing completion not ten minutes after they had gotten started, at which point Chirithy pipes up with a fresh topic of conversation.

“This is a nice ritual,” they supply, their enthusiastic rocking and crescent shaped gaze catching Ventus’s. “I’ve never done anything like it.”

“You—I mean, _we_ —didn’t do stuff like this back when?”

“Nope. Spirits and their keyblade wielders… one day, they’d be there. Then, the next...” The silence lasts for mere moments, but it’s cavernous and aching all the same. “We mourned for our friends, sure, but nobody ever thought anything of it. Or to celebrate.”

There’s a great deal that could be drawn from that somber piece of knowledge. Ventus should be taking the necessary steps to digest some of it, or at the very least, endeavor to learn more. It’s rare for Chirithy to speak of the past of their own accord. Ordinarily, they’ll tighten their lips at the foggiest mention. Without a doubt, this is an opportunity to make the most of—and yet, the blonde allows himself to become preoccupied with the catlike creature’s throwaway observation instead.

“Celebrate?” It’s repeated slowly, inflection reminiscent of one that would accompany a word sourced from a foreign tongue. “Is… that what you think this is? What _I’m_ doing?”

“Sure! What else?” Chirithy pads closer, setting a paw over the back of one of Ventus’s palms and the wreath in turn. “This artifact, which you and your friends have made with your own hands… it’s so lively and colorful. And he was your Master, wasn’t he? It only makes sense that you’d want to keep his life in your memory. Flowers sure are a beautiful way to do it.”

It couldn’t be clearer that there’s been some sort of severe disconnect between the two. The boy’s emeralds have widened, still meeting Chirithy’s stare, but not seeing or perceiving.

Then, all at once, the tears come cascading down.

“Ven?! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

 _“Nothing_. It’s nothing. It’s just…” His shrill hiccup is the first of many. “I want to remember him—and I wa-want to do it fondly. I really, _really_ do. But whenever somebody says his name, I’m never thinking about how much I miss him... o-or that I wish he was still around. I don’t miss him. Not like they do. I just... feel s- _scared_. And _angry_. ‘Cause the very last time I saw him alive, he decided he wanted me dead. Th-That it was for the greater good. He didn’t even give me a _chance_.” Clenched teeth sink and hide behind the knees Ventus draws to his chest and Master Eraqus’s wreath falls casualty to the abrupt movement, tipping from its already precarious position on his thigh and plopping onto the ground just aside. “So… I dunno if celebrating is something I can do. Not with my whole heart, anyway.”

His spirit companion remains silent, ears drooped despondently. Their paw has since moved to the small of his back.

“I’m sorry. For my heart not being in this. For being so _different_.” Another humorless huff of laughter. “It’s gotta be tough. You thought you were about to reunite with an old friend, but really, you were jumping into the arms of a total stranger.”

Intent on challenging that notion, Chirithy perks up, administering a faint pat to the boy’s bared skin.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ven. If you ask me, it’s a good thing that you’re a different person now.”

There’s a hasty intake of breath on Ventus’s part, a surefire sign that he convinced himself he could anticipate the essence of whatever Chirithy was about to say and fire off the cookie cutter response he had raring to go, but he’s forced to stop short the moment that reality and their actual sentiment catches up to him.

At a pace slower than a snail’s, he lowers his folded arms and lifts his head. It’s just enough to establish eye contact again.

“It is?”

The spirit bobs as confirmation, sincerity radiating from the subtleties of their expression.

“Mhmm! The Ven I used to know would’ve let anybody do him harm. He would’ve thought that he deserved it, too. So if you’re mad and think that what happened was wrong—and it _was_ , by the way—then you’ve changed for the better.”

Unreservedly speechless, Ventus straightens his posture, capable of nothing other than that and goggling at Chirithy.

“And… admittedly, I probably should have picked and chose my words a bit better. I already knew that your relationship with your Master wasn’t the best.”

At that, the boy disentangles his limbs completely, appearing almost panicked.

“H-How? I’ve never...”

“From the moment we were separated, I’ve been watching over you,” they admit, floating up before Ventus in hopes that he’ll catch them—and he does. “Anyone could tell just by looking and listening. He was a big step up from your last Master, but he still made you miserable. And after what he did to you… what he _tried_ to do to you… who wouldn’t feel the way that you do?”

Ventus slumps anew. This time, rather than collapsing in on himself, he embraces Chirithy.

“Then... there’s nothing else to say about it, is there?”

“Not unless you want there to be.”

He counts to ten, then backwards from ten, fingertips finding comfort in the texture of the other’s fur.

“I think I do. But not right now.”

“That’s okay too,” Chirithy coos, nuzzling against the side of his face. “After all, it _is_ your special day. You should spend it how you want to.”

The air begins to move again and time along with it. When they inevitably part, it’s only for the sake of bringing the wreath to completion. With it assembled, hung in its proper place and the now emptied basket’s handle stable on the crook of Ventus’s elbow, he beckons to his friend once more. Just like the day of their reunion, Chirithy bounds straight for his chest. They’d have wasted no time in burrowing against it if the keyblade wielder didn’t institute parallel grips just beneath their underarms, raising them up in such a way that the sunbeams form a halo around their plump frame.

“Say, Chirithy—when’s _your_ birthday?”

“Huh? Mine?” If they had the capacity to blink rapidly, this would be the perfect opportunity. “Spirits don’t _have_ birthdays. We’re created, and then… that’s that.”

“Then we’re coming up with one! ASAP.”

“W-We are?!”

“Yeah! ‘Course! Everybody needs a birthday, even if it’s not the one they’re s’posed to have.” Ventus brings Chirithy back down to shoulder level, grinning brilliantly while falling into familiar step along the mountain path. “C’mon. Terra and Aqua are waiting. Let’s go ask ‘em how they picked mine!”

The spirit’s surprise fades, and in its place, happiness swells.

“O-Okay!”


End file.
